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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25788961">To fall into the flowers bloom, of the other side</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/elegantwings/pseuds/elegantwings'>elegantwings</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stranger Things (TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Alternate Universe - No Upside Down, M/M, References to Depression, slight angst with a happy ending</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:48:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,036</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25788961</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/elegantwings/pseuds/elegantwings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve decides to spent 4th of July weekend alone at his parents beach house, after more or less quitting his job and running away from home. But there's a strange man on the beach, and he's also about to leave his life behind forever. What a coincidence.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>74</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>To fall into the flowers bloom, of the other side</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/neonpinkdragon/gifts">neonpinkdragon</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY TRUEST LOVE, MARINA. This is all for you baby, happy endings only for our birthday. </p>
<p>Title is from Lamb's Wool by Foster the People.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sun’s practically setting by the time Steve walks out of his beach house. The feeling of loneliness sinks from his shoulders all the way down, and for all it’s expected, it still fucking sucks. It makes perfect sense, which makes it all the worse. Nancy dumped him six months ago, and now she’s in San Francisco with Barb, and somehow Barb’s willing to put up with Jonathan too, and the three of them have <em>something</em> going on that Steve won’t pretend to understand. </p>
<p>Nancy and her roommates are only six hours or so away from the Harrington property on Long Beach, but Steve didn’t bother telling them he’s sort of in the neighborhood. Hawkins is, after all, a long way away, and Steve knows Nancy was happy to leave Steve firmly in the past. (And so is Barb, and so is <em>Jonathan</em>, for sure). </p>
<p>There’s a good chance Mike did tell Nancy, though, a good-intentioned little shit now that he’s shed the last mood swings of adolescence. He’s tall as shit now, too, taller than Steve, his teenage awkward gangliness melding into a more adult-but-still wiry effect. Oh, and he and El got <em>married</em>, eloped one weekend to the absolute surprise of no one, and then his parents (his mother) insisted on throwing a huge party and made them walk down the aisle together anyway.</p>
<p>That was the last time Steve had seen Nancy, looking gorgeous as always and standing with both of her dates. Steve refused to be that guy, so he returned her awkward little wave and spent the rest of the afternoon with the nerd crew, who were also coincidentally celebrating the impending freedom of college graduation. Even though the ink had barely dried on their diplomas and they were headed into four different directions. Everyone’s left Hawkins behind, except their parents, and except for Steve. </p>
<p>It’s 4th of July weekend. The holiday falls on a Saturday today, hurray. Steve had been bringing Nancy out here every year since they were probably too young to go on a trip like that without a legal adult. Then, for that short window of time where Mike, El, Dustin, Will and Lucas all were legal adults, they’d come out for the 4th, and one year for Spring Break, too, and Steve’s parents didn’t seem to care. They didn’t even ask Steve for a guest list, or parents phone numbers, or even if any girls were coming other than Nancy. </p>
<p>So Steve is alone this year, and he has the next week off, and the one after that, and so on, because he’d quit his job on the way out of Hawkins. He hasn’t officially “moved” to Long Beach; it looks too much like he’s chasing after Nancy. But he also doesn’t have a return flight home and most of his possessions are still at his parents’ house in Hawkins, where he was living right up until thirty-ish hours ago. He’s eloping, like Mike and El, just with himself. It’s not the best metaphor, but it’s a change. His parents are still giving him an allowance as long as he’s gainfully employed, and it will be a while before his father even notices anything’s changed. The other thing about his dad is that he’s never happy unless Steve is following in his exact footsteps, so he’ll probably threaten to cut Steve off when he figures everything out in about a year, maybe two. At that point, Steve will either cave, as always, or give his father the middle finger and finally do what he wants to do with his life.</p>
<p>Steve isn’t sure what he wants to do with his life, he just knows that it has nothing to do with selling insurance. There are plenty of other things Steve is more than capable of. He can grow flowers, for example, and he’s always wondered what it would be like to learn how to really cook. He’s also got a pretty face and he’s in California, maybe he’ll audition for commercials. There are options. </p>
<p>The second he unlocked the front door of the beach house, he started drinking, even though it was five in the morning. There was plenty of liquor in the cabinet, and he got drunk on a crisp white wine and fell asleep on the couch. When he’d woken up a few hours later, disoriented, jetlagged, he considered just going back to sleep. But he also doesn’t want to spend days and days foggy and exhausted so he forces himself awake and walks out onto the back deck to get some fresh air. </p>
<p>The deck overlooks a private beach. Steve truly cannot imagine how much money it must cost his parents to maintain this place, only to use it once or twice a year. Steve wishes they gave a shit about the money. He wishes they gave a shit about anything at all. </p>
<p>A girl with long red hair, wearing shorts and a tank top walks onto the beach. Steve hasn’t turned the light on, and the girl doesn’t see him at first, until he clears his throat. She jumps in place and then turns around slowly. “Uh...hi?” she says. </p>
<p>He doesn’t know why it pisses him off so much, that she’s technically trespassing on his parents’ property. She doesn’t look like she’s about to dive into the water or anything, and she’s probably going to write poetry or something in the moonlight. Something harmless. “This is private property,” he says, trying to look stern. </p>
<p>“I know,” she sort of shrugs, smiling nervously, “And I’m sorry, but um, no one’s been here in such a long time and it’s so beautiful out here. My parents fight,” she finishes awkwardly, a little embarrassed that she’d given that away. </p>
<p>Steve’s resolve crumbles instantly. “Okay yeah, I’m sorry, I was being a dick.” He rubs his neck. “I just got here, from Indiana, so I’m a little…”</p>
<p>She smiles, a little less self-conscious. “Sure, I get that. My parents almost moved there eight years ago, but well,” she pauses, “They changed their minds.” </p>
<p>“Lucky you,” Steve says sincerely. “I don’t know how long I’m going to be here, but you’re welcome to come out here any time you’d like, even after I leave. It’s my parents’, but they almost never use it.” </p>
<p>She looks so relieved that Steve wonders how bad things must be at home for her. “Thanks!” she says.</p>
<p>Steve nods and waves goodbye, and walks back into the house with a vague plan of figuring out dinner. He doesn’t check on the woman, because it seems weird and she’s an adult, and if she was in trouble, she’d probably scream. But he can’t help but look, just once, before going to bed, but she’s already gone, and he feels like a complete idiot for not asking her name. </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>A few blocks into town, there’s a little ice cream shop done up in a 80’s theme. “Scoops Ahoy”. It’s been like that ever since Steve was a kid, and actually, maybe it’s less an 80’s theme and more, it’s been there <em>since </em>the 80s. Either way, they have the best ice cream within ten miles. Steve’s body is still jumbled-up in the morning, not exactly sure of what time it is even when his phone clearly declares it is 9am. </p>
<p>He reaches out to open the door and grabs someone’s hand instead. It belongs to a woman with shoulder-length, wavy brown hair and seems just as surprised to see him as he is. “Sorry!” he says too quickly, already forgetting how to talk to other humans, and then they dance around awkwardly for a few seconds trying to figure out who goes in first. Finally Steve does, and the woman holds the door and then follows behind him. </p>
<p>“I haven’t met anyone else brave enough to go get ice cream this early in the morning,” she says while he examines the flavors. </p>
<p>“Jetlag,” he says, considering strawberry or chocolate. He’s not sure he could handle anything more adventurous right now. “What’s your excuse?”</p>
<p>“Graveyard shift,” she replies, and gestures for him to order first. He gets a scoop of chocolate because it feels right, and he can always come back later and try a different flavor. He sits in one of the blue vinyl booths and concentrates on not thinking about anything except for ice cream. He’s going to channel one of those self-help apps his mom uses and make his brain the ocean or whatever. </p>
<p>The woman sits across from him a few minutes later. “I’m Robin, by the way,” she says. Judging by the color of her ice cream, she’s gone for pistachio, a choice that he already instinctively knows suits her. </p>
<p>“Steve,” he tips his spoon towards her in a mock-salute. “Hey, uh, so, I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but I’m not-”</p>
<p>She cuts him off, waving her hands in the air. “No, no,” she laughs a little, “Don’t worry, man, I’m like, very gay. Extremely a lesbian. Never kissed a boy, never will.” She takes a bite of ice cream, and continues talking around it. “Also, that hair’s not really my thing.”</p>
<p>He scowls at her and runs a hand through his hair automatically. He hasn’t bothered to style it for a few days, and it shows. “I’m going through something, okay?” </p>
<p>“I know,” she says, but not like she’s mocking him. “That’s why I thought you might like some company.” She pauses. “And, I’ve been awake for twenty-six hours.” </p>
<p>He whistles. “Ouch.” Suddenly eating ice cream first thing in the morning doesn’t seem so odd. “Don’t you want to like, sleep?”</p>
<p>Robin shrugs. “I have the rest of today off, and work in the morning. So, yeah, eventually. When I collapse where I stand.” Somehow, she doesn’t look in danger of spontaneously passing out. </p>
<p>They lapse into silence, but Steve realizes that it’s not a bad silence, especially when there’s no weight of possible attraction underneath it. It’s not that Steve isn’t attracted to women, because he’s very bisexual as the pin on his jacket proudly states, but Robin reminds him of Nancy. In that they are both petite, brunette women and maybe just women in general are a little bit out of his depth right now. </p>
<p>Everyone makes Steve feel a little out of his depth right now.</p>
<p>Before they part ways, they exchange phone numbers and suddenly Steve has a friend here, someone to text pictures of dogs he sees and to get lunch with sometimes. He doesn’t trouble Robin with his whole sob story, but she seems to understand why he’s here all the same, 2,000 miles away from home and alone. She makes room for him in her life, between her all-nighters at the diner and the classes that they’re paying for, and he has his first real friend since middle school, somebody wholly unconcerned with his cool factor or bank account. </p>
<p>He sees the red-haired girl on the beach again, letting the waves lap gently over her bare feet and occasionally looking behind herself. She doesn’t notice him, and it’s none of his business what she’s doing anyway, so he lets the blinds fall shut and forgets about her.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Steve finds it within himself to be motivated to go to bed before midnight and keep a more-or-less normal schedule. He’d blame Robin’s influence, but he’s not actually sure she sleeps, and frankly the amount of coffee she drinks scares him. He’s just already so sick of his own moping, and he can’t stand being jittery and tired and on-edge. Not that he’s not still tense, just...bearably so. </p>
<p>There are still nights though, where he gives up tossing and turning because he just knows he won’t be able to close his eyes until the sun starts to rise. Those nights, he binges on Netflix True Crime, or reads a $2 paperback he’d picked up from the library’s for sale shelf that week. Mostly he stays inside, until he realizes that he can do the same thing on the second floor deck, and also feel the breeze and smell the ocean. </p>
<p>The second night he does it, he looks up from <em>Confessions of a Shopaholic </em>and realizes there’s a shirtless man on the beach. He just barely manages not to drop the book and scramble to the railing to figure out what exactly is going on. Fortunately, the man’s lower half is obscured by the water, as if he’s sticking his legs straight out in front of him. It looks awkward and uncomfortable, but the man is calmly looking ahead, occasionally brushing his long hair out of his face. When he turns his head a certain way, the light of the moon catches the silver hoops on the shell of his ear. </p>
<p>Steve should really ignore him and go back to his book, and not go downstairs and approach the man on the beach. </p>
<p>“This is a private beach you know,” Steve says, but this time, he’s not annoyed. </p>
<p>The man startles when Steve speaks, water splashing around him as he bites out a sharp, “Fuck!” </p>
<p>“Oh shit, sorry man,” Steve tries to pat his shoulder reassuringly, but regrets it as his hand hits the bare shoulder. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” </p>
<p>“It’s cool,” the man says, shrugging off Steve’s hand a little roughly. “My sis said we could be here, but if that’s not cool…” He hasn’t made a move to get up, and when Steve glances at his legs, it looks like he’s wearing some kind of swimsuit. Maybe he’s worn out from swimming all day? Steve tries not to think about that. </p>
<p>“No,” Steve says too fast, “It’s cool. I didn’t know she had a brother, but that’s cool, I get it, your parents suck. I can relate.” Steve has no place to judge that the guy looks like he’s also in his mid-twenties and still living with his family. If Steve’s parents were ever home, he’d have been still living with them too. “I’ll let you go, sorry to bother you.”</p>
<p>“Wait,” the man says, and Steve waits. He’s rewarded with a lopsided smile. “If you could leave your whole life behind tomorrow, and you could never go back, would you?” </p>
<p>“Heavy stuff to ask a stranger,” Steve comments, instead of answering. Because his answer is yes, he’d already done it, but then he’d have to admit it out loud. </p>
<p>“Billy,” he says, reaching out to shake Steve’s hand. He’s still sitting. </p>
<p>Steve sighs and shakes his hand, and introduces himself. “Well. I guess your answer is yes, then.”</p>
<p>“Thanks,” Billy says, and doesn’t comment this time when Steve leaves. </p>
<p>When he checks the back window a little while later, Billy is gone.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>The next night, when Steve walks onto the balcony he can see that Billy is already at the shoreline again. The most polite thing to do right now is to ignore him, so Steve does, angling his chair so that he can see out over the ocean but Billy is just out of his line of sight. He’s just barely gotten over how embarrassing the whole thing was last night. </p>
<p>He can’t help but glance over at Billy a few times, and the other man stays put. It seems like he’s just lost in thought, no earbuds or anything. Steve can’t think of the last time he sat for so long with nothing for him to focus on but his own thoughts. </p>
<p>“Hey,” the man calls suddenly, and Steve almost falls out of his chair. Payback from yesterday, probably. “Are you coming down here or what?”</p>
<p>Steve can see Billy looking at him now, waiving him down. </p>
<p>Steve scrambles inside and downstairs before he really thinks too hard about it. He’s barefoot, and stands close enough to the water it almost touches his toes. He and Billy are parallel, and Billy remains seated on the sand. “Didn’t want to bother you,” Steve says casually.</p>
<p>Billy pats the sand next to him. “Sit, pretty boy.”</p>
<p>Steve sits. “What are we doing?” he asks, trying not to flinch when Billy’s hand cups his chin. He instinctively leans into his heated palm. </p>
<p>“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” Billy murmurs. His fingers trail down Steve’s neck, toying with the little bit of hair peeking out from his collar. “I just have to show you something first.” </p>
<p>For a second, Steve doesn’t know what to expect. Certainly not for Billy to turn his head gently so he can see the horizon. Something breaks the water’s surface, and Steve thinks that something’s attacking Billy, but then he sees it clearly in the bright moonlight. A tail. It drops back into the water lightning fast, spraying them both a little bit. </p>
<p>“Oh,” Steve says, trying to force his brain to accept what he’s just seen. “Is that real?” he asks, feeling a little silly. </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Billy laughs, and uses his tail to flick a little more water in Steve’s direction. “Do you like it?” </p>
<p>“I do,” Steve decides. He knows already that he likes Billy. Billy had seemed so out of reach and unattainable, and that’s all it took for Steve’s bruised heart to get attached. That’s why he’s letting Billy kiss him now, and ignoring the little detail that he’s a mermaid or whatever. </p>
<p>Steve lets himself get lost in the feel of Billy’s lips against his own, his tongue in his mouth and the scrape of teeth on his lips and jaw and neck. He has questions, sure, but he doesn’t feel the need to ask any of them. He breaks the kiss only to pull off his t-shirt and throw it aside. Billy is definitely naked, so it’s only fair. There’s no urgency to do anything more than kiss, their bare skin touching here and there. Billy’s hair feels like it’s a little damp maybe, like he’s been swimming, which, duh, but it’s not gross and salt-crusted like Steve’s would be. He belongs here, in the water, and if the sun was shining, his skin would be glowing, Steve’s sure of it. </p>
<p>Eventually, they lay side by side on the damp sand. Steve’s shirt is piled up behind his head like a pillow, and they’re curved towards one another, not touching. “This is nice,” Steve says, because he thinks he should say <em>something</em>, even though it doesn’t feel quite right. </p>
<p>Billy laughs, running the tips of his fingers up and down Steve’s bare side, and Steve is glad he isn’t ticklish. “Fuck, I could use a cigarette,” he says, and almost <em>giggles </em>at Steve’s shocked look. </p>
<p>“You <em>smoke</em>?” Steve asks, trying to imagine where he’d even keep a pack of dry cigarettes. </p>
<p>“Not anymore, you dope,” Billy says, soothing his insult with a couple of quick kisses. Steve wouldn’t have been offended even if he didn’t. Then Billy sobers a little, and sighs, crossing his hands behind his bed and looking at the sky. “My mom’s like me, my dad isn’t. But when I was born, I was like my dad, so my mom left me with him, up until about three weeks ago.” </p>
<p>Steve nods, waiting for Billy to fill in some of the obvious gaps. He doesn’t have to wait long.</p>
<p>“People like...me, and my mom, they get a choice, before they turn twenty-eight. It’s a weird aging thing, they do it differently, but anyway, if you want to check out life with legs, you get a trial run, and if you’ve got legs by your 28th birthday, you keep ‘em.” He pauses, his fingers twitching in the sand as if they’re struggling for something to play with. “And I guess, vice versa.” </p>
<p>Steve grabs his hand. “I’m listening,” he says softly, while Billy’s thumb draws shapes on his palm.</p>
<p>“Anyway, it probably sounds like a load of shit, and that’s what my dad figured too, and he’s also, I might add, a complete rat bastard, and my mom kind of realized that when she was stuck with him for 9 months. And then she had me, and I was normal, and she left me with his deadbeat ass just in time for her to miss being stuck on two legs for the rest of her life.” </p>
<p>Steve feels like his problems are small now, nothing, not when mermaids are real and there’s a beautiful boy lying beside him on a gorgeous summer night. He wants to keep touching Billy, exploring him, learning his body as the hours melt away. </p>
<p>“I didn’t know about any of this until last week,” Billy continues. “And then it was like...there’s a place out there for me, maybe, a place where I belong.” </p>
<p>Steve still has so many questions, but he has the sense that now is not the time to interject any comments. </p>
<p>Except this one thing that’s bothering him. “How old are you?” he asks.</p>
<p>Billy gives Steve another one of those crooked grins. “Twenty-seven.” </p>
<p>“When do you turn twenty-eight?” Steve whispers, barely more than a breath.</p>
<p>“Midnight,” Billy says, bold almost, and suddenly his question the night before makes sense. </p>
<p>Somehow, it makes his heart ache too much for someone he’s only just met. He’s grieving his relationship with Nancy. Dustin keeps sending him links to articles about getting over a broken heart and learning your own love languages. Steve’s been kissing a strange boy with a tail because it couldn’t possibly be real, except now he’s starting to realize it is so <em>very </em>real. </p>
<p>His mind keeps trying to reject the idea of mermaids. It’s some kind of costume there, under the water, a motor of some kind. But then again, he’s always believed in Occam’s Razor and the facts are clear as day in front of him. Hesitantly, he starts to reach down Billy’s torso, where his hip melds seamlessly into scales. He hesitates a moment, hand hovering, until Billy nods, and Steve lets his hand fall flat against him.</p>
<p>
The scales are smoother than Steve expected, but firm, wet and cool. Steve wants to lick it, but it’s so close to the rest of Billy’s smooth pelvis, and the thing is, Steve has experimented with guys before but they have all had visible dicks. He’s not really sure what to do here. At the same time, it’s late, crawling closer to midnight, and he can only assume that once Billy has made his choice, he’ll swim away to whatever depths contain his mother and the rest of his family. </p>
<p>“Why me, now?” Steve asks.</p>
<p>“Isn’t it enough that you’re pretty?” Billy asks, and Steve stretches up the length of his body and kisses him again. </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>When Steve wakes up, the sun has just begun to creep over the horizon. He stretches, catlike, against the warm and slightly damp sand underneath him, and notes with some relief that he had the presence of mind to put his sweatpants back on before he fell asleep. </p>
<p>He remembers the night before with perfect clarity. The weight of Billy’s cock in the palm of his hand, different from his own and yet exactly the same, the little sounds he made when he sucked Steve’s cock, how he’d been so easy to look at after, soft and sleepy. Steve had been tired, too, but he had tried so badly to stay awake and memorize this perfect moment. </p>
<p>Billy’s gone, Steve knows, knew before he’d fallen asleep the night before, just as well as he knew how long he’d be missing him. Ridiculous. They’d had a particularly affectionate one-night stand, and Billy had only ever been honest with him.</p>
<p>“Morning, Pretty Boy,” a voice says from behind him. He startles, and not quite believing his ears, they’d only <em>just met</em>, he turns around to see Billy sitting on the sand behind him, toes buried beneath the sand. Wearing a pair of boxer shorts he’d clearly gotten out of Steve’s house. He recognizes the faded stripes. </p>
<p>“You stayed,” Steve says breathlessly. “For me?”</p>
<p>“Nah,” Billy says, fully grinning, “But kind of. Max’ll be mad she spent so much time saying goodbye.”</p>
<p>“Your sister?” Steve asks, and after Billy nods, says, “How do you feel about ice cream for breakfast?” </p>
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